


Still in the Pink

by facetofcathy



Category: Leverage
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Character of Color, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-25
Updated: 2009-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facetofcathy/pseuds/facetofcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guys go out on the town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still in the Pink

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this picture [here](http://community.livejournal.com/provideleverage/138489.html). Credit to Darkrose for noticing how Eliot looked in the picture.

"Hardison!"

"Spencer," Alec hollered back.

"There you are," Eliot said, appearing in Alec's doorway. Alec tilted his head and studied him. "I'm not your damn secretary, Hardison." Alec entertained a brief fantasy of Eliot as his damn secretary, and he knew he had a goofed-up grin on his face, by the way Eliot scowled a little harder, or maybe Eliot had a toothache; he'd been scowling a lot lately.

"When was the last time you went to a dentist, man?"

"Last time I needed a tooth pulled, I just went to the right kind of bar and started a fight."

Alec tilted his head the other way and considered the fact that sometimes just talking to Eliot made him want to wear a lot of pink or watch twenty hours of _Project Runway_, or something, just to keep the balance of the world in proper alignment. "So you're not my damn secretary?"

"Yeah," Eliot said and he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and squinted at it a little harder. "I took a message for you, never doing that again."

Alec waited, while Eliot turned the paper around and around. It appeared the message was written on a coffee filter.

"Okay, so the guy said to just write it down exactly." Eliot glanced up and then back down at the paper as he started to read. "_This is a message to you, Rudy. The mirror in the bathroom is all shined up. It's later than you think. 11:54 or my name isn't Willard. Don't take one step beyond._"

Alec jumped up out of his chair and snatched the coffee filter away from Eliot. It was covered in something that looked like chicken scratch, literally. "Dude, is this shorthand?"

"You have no need to know that."

"Uh-huh. You sure about the time, 11:54?"

"I might not be your secretary, that doesn't mean I'm not a good secretary," Eliot said.

"I bet you are."

Eliot ignored him and said, "Some kind of code? And, correct me if I'm wrong but we aren't working a job are we?"

"Code, yes. Job, no."

Eliot just looked at him. It was his interrogation look, and Alec immediately wanted to not tell him, just because he was contrary like that sometimes, but he had to tell him, just because he was weak like that sometimes. "It's directions to a party. A 2 Tone revival."

"Is that some geek-boy thing, which would explain why I've never heard of it, by the way."

"Music," Alec said, "I assume even someone as culturally stunted as you are has heard of music.

"Stunted. I am definitely not stunted." Eliot rolled his shoulders. The move was supposed to be menacing, but Alec had seen him do it naked, so it didn't have quite the same effect on him. "I'll have you know," Eliot said proudly, "that I was in the audience for the Johnny Cash tribute concert in Nashville"

Johnny Cash. Alec hung his head. "Turn around," he said.

"Why?" Eliot said suspiciously.

"So I can remind myself about what I see in you."

"Hey, no dissing The Man in Black."

"Fine, fine, I will not take the sacred name in vain. You got a suit?"

"What do I need a suit for," Eliot said, all suspicious again.

"To come to the party with me."

"Why do I need a suit for a party at a warehouse?"

"How—"

"Your code's not that hard to crack, man."

"I can make codes you couldn't crack in a million years."

"Yeah, yeah, your mind is like Fort Knox. Explain to me why I want to go to a party where I have to wear a suit?"

"Because we've been banned from every good restaurant in town?"

Eliot bounced up on the balls of his feet, fisted his hands. "As a customer, I have a right to express my opinion about the cuisine." Eliot took a deep breath to continue his California cuisine rant.

Alec decided to cut him off at the pass this time. "Repeat after me, _I will not throw knives in public._"

+++++++

The party, at 1158 Willard Ave., was going loud and strong when they finally got there. The only suit Eliot would admit to owning was all black, his shirt was black, and he'd spent half an hour fussing with his damn hair. And, okay, he cleaned up pretty good as long as Alec failed to notice the cowboy boots. He gave a small prayer for the small mercy of no bolo tie, and used the reflection in the cab window to get his hat to sit just right.

"Two questions," Eliot said, staring at the line-up of people waiting to get in. "Did you steal that hat from Nate, and is that suit actually from the sixties?"

"Nate only wishes he had hats this cool, baby, and this suit is a genuine vintage Tonic, none of that revival crap. I fought a vicious and bitter eBay war over it, but I of course, came out victorious."

"You hacked the other bidders?"

"Well, yeah."

Eliot just nodded and gave the suit another dubious look.

Alec led Eliot up to the doorman, who in true professional style didn't say a word when his eyes passed over Eliot. He had a very eloquent blank look, an asset in a doorman. He also knew who was on the list, and who wasn't. They got waved in, as Alec knew they would, and Eliot didn't even have the courtesy to look impressed.

Inside was just what Alec expected, black and white everywhere. The concrete floor was painted in checker board as far as the eye could see and the walls, where they were visible in the gloom, were white designs on black with the white shading to purple from the ultraviolet lights. The place was huge, the ceiling invisible above the smoke that hung in a menacing cloud at about twelve feet. There was a bar and some tables, not glass unfortunately, but the seats were upholstered. This was a classy party in a refitted warehouse, not some cheesy-ass rave.

Eliot led them to the bar and exchanged a stupid amount of money for a bottle of bourbon, and then he plunked his ass down in the nearest empty seat.

"I wanna dance, man," Alec said, and he only then realized he pretty much had been bouncing up and down since they had come in the door.

"I danced once," Eliot said, in the tone that meant the story would involve violent death and possibly dismemberment.

"Stand up and turn around," Alec said sourly.

"How be I just take a picture of my ass you can keep in your wallet?"

"What makes you think I don't already have one?"

"Shut up. What is the deal here anyway?" Eliot tipped a look at the dance floor.

"Dancing, party, music--I reckon you've heard of it down home there, out in the country with the cows and the horses?"

Eliot glared at him, so Alec turned around and wiggled his ass, and Eliot was grinning by the time he turned back. "Ain't just your ass I like," he said, and his whiskey-soaked sexy voice carried well enough over the music that Alec almost decided to skip the dancing. Eliot gestured to the dance floor again with the hand holding the whiskey bottle; he took a long drink, straight from the bottle and said, "Everybody dancing is a guy, and half of them are wearing suits like yours and--"

"And it's not just the decor that's black and white?"

"Yeah."

"I told you, it's a 2 Tone party."

"And that is?"

Alec made a sour face. How the hell to explain that? "Something from a long time ago and a place that never really existed, but the music's still fine, and I want to dance."

"Dance then, I ain't stopping you. Me and," Eliot glanced at the bottle, "Jim here will just relax together."

 

+++++++

Alec had forgotten just how hot you could get dancing in British worsted wool. He'd had his fun, and now he needed to go find water, Eliot and someplace a little more private. He found the water okay, but Eliot was not where he'd left him. He was just starting to wonder if he'd danced through a brawl, and Eliot had found another place to get kicked out of, when he heard a familiar smokey laugh. Very smokey.

Eliot was sprawled in a big circular booth with about ten other people Alec had never seen before, and he still had Jim in one hand, but the other was drawing lines and circles in the air while he told some story that likely had a body count higher than the latest Hollywood blockbuster. He was also completely wasted.

"Hey, Eliot," Alec said, and slapped him on the shoulder again, a little harder the second time.

"Alec, Alec, man, you gotta meet these guys, we're having a great time."

"I think maybe we should try to find some fresher air, Eliot."

Eliot narrowed his eyes, which should have been physically impossible, he was already about as squinty as a man could get, and a little red in the eye too. Then, clearly getting completely the wrong idea, or mostly the wrong idea, he smirked and managed to stand up on his own. He plunked down the bottle and said, "I'll leave you my boy Jim here to keep y'all company, while I go get some air." The word air had never sounded so dirty, even in L.A.

Alec got a grip on his elbow and steered him into the deeper gloom at the back of the main room. He may just have looked up the blueprints for the place while Eliot had been fussing over his hair. If he'd read things right, and when did he ever not, the bathrooms for the staff, therefore the clean ones, should be right about—"Here, try not to fall over while I pick the lock."

He got them inside, let Eliot drop onto an upholstered bench, the same as the ones by the bar, and he locked the door again.

"That was some good shit," Eliot said.

"I can see that."

"Funny guy. Guy that had the weed. Talked funny. I'm also drunk. Maybe."

"Talked funny as in Jamaican?"

"No, no," Eliot waved off the idea vigorously. "I said funny, as in weird sounding. Think he was Canadian."

"Shit, man, no wonder you're so baked."

"Yeah, was pretty good stuff."

"Seriously Eliot, I can't take you anywhere."

Eliot nodded soberly, and said, "Keep getting kicked out."

"Or stoned off your ass."

"Yeah," Eliot looked up and grinned. "You should come over here."

Alec warily sat down beside Eliot, who turned and looked deep into his eyes and said in the most serious tones, "I think I've got ten minutes before I pass out if you want to, you know, have your way with me."

Alec was glad he'd found the cleaner bathroom when they rolled off the bench onto the floor. Eliot lasted longer than ten minutes.

"Next time we could go someplace with better music," Eliot said.

"Blasphemer." Alec punched him in the arm, hard. He made sure Eliot couldn't see him working his fingers after. "What like some country bar?"

Eliot turned to look at him and then frowned. "Maybe not."

"Yeah, maybe not."

"We could just stay in the office and play naughty secretary," Eliot said.

"Now you're talking my language."

**Author's Note:**

> So, I know Aldis Hodge is actually wearing a sweater in that pic, but I wanted to imagine him in the full gear, so I called it a suit. Check out the first Specials video for examples of the fashion.
> 
> Songs used in the code: [A Message to You, Rudy - The Specials](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_LDvwPXpThM), [Mirror in the Bathroom, - The Beat (The English Beat in North America),](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTNpaaPHENE) [Enjoy Yourself - The Specials](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XfWlg36jV48), [One Step Beyond - Madness.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N-uyWAe0NhQ)
> 
> 2 Tone was both the record label a lot of the Ska/Punk/Rock Steady artists were signed to, and a common name for the genre. The, 'place that never really existed,' was the world where racial equality allowed the music to be a fusion rather than the blatant appropriation of Jamaican music it often was. This is not that world. Almost every band had a white front-man, and Madness had an all white line-up (at least in the videos).


End file.
